To be loved for himself
by Christina Destler
Summary: In the Phantom of the Opera, Erik sends Christine away after she chooses him but imagine what would happen if Erik hadn't let her go. Christine is now forced to live with the decision she made as raoul tries desperatly to get her back.
1. And so it begins

Chapter One:

Erik flew madly at his organ and attacked each key in its turn playing the most hateful melody ever composed within his mind. "She will be mine!" He screamed at the world, though no one could hear him. He began to appear more as an animal than a human and he crawled around on all fours screaming hateful nothings into the air.

"Mine…mine…oh Christine…mine"

Earlier that night, Erik had been watching Christine through the wall in her dressing room and was about to leave when he heard a light tapping on her door. He watched her get up anxiously and answer whoever was calling for her. Her face had seemed to brighten when the Vicomte de Chagny caught her in a zealous embrace. Raoul had tried to speak but Christine shushed him,

"No Raoul, not here." She had said, "He could see us here. We must go higher, away from the trapdoors!"

Erik had been so hurt by Christine's wanting to get away from him. The Vicomte did not protest and Erik followed the pair as they made their way to the rooftop of the Garnier Opera House. He listened all the while as they made plans to run away together the next night after Christine was to star, once more, in 'Faust'. He, sitting on the top of Apollo's lyre, watched furiously as the two were locked into a passionate kiss and once they parted he went down, fuming, into his lair to plan his revenge.

"Christine, no…no!"

Only days earlier Christine had stayed with Erik for a fortnight and she had promised to come back, she had promised but now he knew she had lied. He had been so blissful and now he felt as if Christine had torn out his heart and spat on it. He trod around on all fours until exhaustion took him over and he collapsed sobbing over and over again,

"Christine…Christine…I need you…Oh god Christine…"

He'd been lying there for almost the entire night, half asleep, when he heard the sound of a boat crossing his cursed lake. Instinctively he grabbed his Pun-jab lasso and prepared himself for a chase. However, all his preparations were in vain when he saw the face of his friend Nadir. He watched furiously as Nadir rowed his boat up to the shore, got out, and proceeded to walk towards Erik.

"Daroga," Erik fumed, "I've half a mind to Pun-jab you now. You know better than to come here uninvited."

The look of pure casualty on Daroga's face only upset Erik more.

"Damn you! Get the hell out of here."

Unfazed Nadir continued walking towards Erik and he sat down next to him.

"Erik, you mustn't continue to see Christine Daae. It will only end badly. "

Before Nadir knew what was happening, Erik had thrown his lasso and it was now tightly, though not tight enough to asphyxiate him, around Nadir's thin neck. Erik looked straight into his eyes and his face twisted with pain, anguish, and anger.

"I said leave me Daroga. Do not try my patience for it wears thin with you."

Nadir gulped loudly and nodded his head. Slowly Erik retrieved his lasso and motioned towards the lake. Nadir got the signal and he stepped back into his boat and left Erik's lair. Only the demonic thoughts running through Erik's head quenched the dead silence of his cold, dismal abode. He resumed his position on the shore of his lake but, soon tiring of this, made his way to his organ. Ah, his organ. It was the only thing that could maintain his sanity all this time underground. He sat down on the bench, intending to compose but is efforts were futile for his tortured mind could comprehend nothing but the incredible pain that Christine had inflicted upon him. She was his muse, his very purpose for breathing and now she had abandoned him. He felt a single cold tear run down his aging face and he looked up to the ceiling, and whatever God was watching him.

"Curse you! Curse you for giving me this abhorrent face! Why do you taunt me like this? Why do you dangle the only thing I want right in front of me only to snatch it away again? Why, God, Why?"

He'd been depressed before. He'd been angry before, but never such as this. Never before had he contemplated his own demise. He'd looked at his lasso so many times before but never had he thought about putting it around his own neck and ending his miserable life. Now, the only thoughts that consumed him were those of misery, hate, and revenge. He would retrieve his dignity; he was the Opera Ghost for pity's sake. No one treated him like this and lived to see the outcome. For all the moments he'd thought of Christine lovingly, now he could not fathom forgiving her. She had betrayed him and she would pay.

**A/N This is my first story on Please review and constructive criticism is always appreciated! **


	2. Planning

Chapter two:

Christine and Raoul were standing in front of her dressing room door with an unspoken tension between them. They planned to run away together the next night after Christine's performance. Raoul couldn't be happier, Christine feared for both of their lives. She knew how irrational Erik could be when he was angry and she was afraid of what he was capable of. Raoul knew nothing of Erik's past, of all the innocent people whom he'd murdered without a thought. He was insane, and in love. He would do anything to be with Christine and she knew it. 'Oh Raoul, heaven help us if Erik finds us.' She turned to him with fear in her eyes and before she spoke he knew what she was going to say.

"Christine, you can't turn back now. You must get out of here."

She smiled at him but he still sensed her fear. She wanted nothing more than to leave now, this night, but she knew it was impossible. Erik was expecting her to perform and to meet him at the strike of twelve. She was completely engulfed by her terror of him. When he was simply a voice he was so harmless but he had become a man. He had become the Opera Ghost and nothing terrified her more than his uncontrollable hatred for the world.

"Raoul, tomorrow night I will in my dressing room just before twelve with all of my things packed. Even if I protest you must not let me stay here. No matter what, tomorrow night, this must end."

Raoul watched as Christine began to cry and it tore his heart in two. He hated to see her cry especially when he knew he could do nothing to stop it. He reached out and put his arms around her, holding her to his chest, and tried to console her. He could feel her frail body trembling with every choked sob that escaped her mouth and it only made him hold her tighter. They would run away together and then he would propose. He had the ring and now he needed only for her to accept his proposal and he'd prayed, night after night, that she would. They'd been playing for weeks that they were already engaged but that did nothing for him except make him crave her more. He was hopelessly in love and nothing would ever change that. His thoughts were broken when he heard Christine's sweet voice,

"Raoul, I must get some rest. Remember, come to my room just before the clock strikes twelve."

She smiled sweetly at him and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her right there. However he knew that Erik could be watching them and he knew what inexplicable horrors were in store for Christine if Erik saw them together.

"Good-night Christine," He spoke with confidence but then, in fear of anyone listening, he whispered, "I love you."

With that, he kissed her outstretched hand and made his way to the carriage waiting for him outside.

Unbeknownst to Raoul or Christine, dozens of floors below them Erik sat at his organ contemplating his revenge. He'd been sitting there for hours before he lethargically made his way up, from the deepest cellars of the Opera House, to the stage itself and set his plan in motion. As he worked intently he calmed himself the only way he knew how, singing,

No one would listen  
No one but her  
Heard as the outcast hears.

Shamed into solitude   
Shunned by the multitude  
I learned to listen  
in my dark, my heart heard music.

I longed to teach the world  
Rise up and reach the world  
No one would listen  
I alone could feel the music

Then at last, a voice in the gloom  
Seemed to cry "I hear you;  
I hear your fears,  
Your torment and your tears."

She saw my loneliness  
Shared in my emptiness  
No one would listen  
No one but her  
Heard as the outcast hears

No one would listen  
No one but her  
Heard as the outcast hears...

His epic voice bounced off the walls all around him, his only companion, as he worked. He could feel the tears begin to run down his cheeks in torrents as he ran the scene over in his head. 'She doesn't love me' was the single thought that continued replaying itself in his mind. 'She'd rather be with him, that repulsive Vicomte. She hates me, I hate myself!' And he did. At that moment in time, more than any other, he absolutely hated himself. He'd been born into the world and immediately cast aside as nothing because of his repugnant deformation. No one, not even his mother, would love him. Christine had shattered every hope that he'd clung onto, so fiercely for these past few years, with just one action. That damned kiss, the kiss she'd given Raoul and not him.

In some way, he knew things would have played out differently had he not been so hideous. In everything he did he blamed it all on his wretched face. This curse that had followed him for so long eating away at his very soul, it was to blame. He'd prayed so long and hard that Christine could look past it, that she could see him for whom he truly was, but inescapably she was human. No human would ever, nor could ever, look upon him with anything but revulsion and hate.

It pained him indescribably to even think of hurting his precious Christine, his muse, but he had no other option. No revenge that could ever be plotted would bring about so much pain as she'd inflicted upon him that night. She'd broken his heart, and she would pay for it.

Standing back, Erik took in everything he had accomplished and knew that his plan was flawless. Now he had only to put it into action and he would the next night. He laughed, his shrill voice cutting through the eerie silence like a knife, at the sheer simplistic genius of his plan, but there was no time to boast now. He went through a trap door that he himself had built and silently crept through the back passageways until he came about a door leading into Miss Daae's dressing room. Like the ghost that he was he made his way in and out, without making a sound, leaving a single red rose, with a black ribbon tied around the stem, lying on her vanity.

"Good-night Christine," he spoke in his monotone voice, "Sleep well for tomorrow holds many secrets."

He crept through the passageways, back down to his lair and sat himself down at his desk. He rummaged through many piles of paper before finding a scroll on which he could write his letter. He took his feather pen, dipped it in red ink, and addressed his letter,

To M. Firmin Richard, and M. Armand Moncharmin:

Gentlemen, as you well know, this evening is to be an epic performance, in more ways than you can imagine. I intend to be present and I fully expect that my box, box five, will be kept empty for me. Should you ignore my commands and sell my box, as you have done in the past, I will waste no time in 'dismissing' whomsoever I find in my seat. Be forewarned gentlemen, the Opera Ghost will be silent no longer.

He sealed the envelope with his usual red skeleton stamp and made his final trip for the evening to the Manager's offices dropping the note, nonchalantly, in front of the door. With that he went back down to his lair to get a bit of rest before the events of the next day were to unfold.

**A/N Constructive criticism is always encouraged. **

**Twinkle22: Thanks! You were my first reviewer. I'm glad you liked it, but as you can imagine nothing good is going to come of his betrayal. **

**Anyone who has read the original Gaston Leroux novel should kind of know exactly what's coming, but I'm going to put a little twist into it. **

**If you read my story please have the courtesy to review. However, do NOT leave a review telling me how awful my story is and what a terrible author I am. If you don't like it that's fine, you are entitled to your opinion, but just tell me what you think I could do better. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Faust

**Twinkle22: Misunderstood is right! But he'll have his revenge…muahahahaha! At the moment, haha, I'm not sure if this is an E/C fic or a C/R fic, But I'll get back to ya on that!**

**Novembermorn: Thanks for reading, I'm glad you liked!**

**Little.prying.Pandora: So I'm assuming then that you just clicked on the link in my diary? Cool, I'll have to find your diary and note you there. Thanks for reading and I hope it is somewhat surprising!**

**To everyone, long detailed reviews are the funnest so you should leave lots of those!**

Chapter three:

Christine shot a worried glance at Raoul, who was sitting in box five. His brother Philippe, the Comte de Chagny, accompanied him and both had fervent expressions of tension pasted across their faces. Raoul had told his brother of his plan to run away with Christine and Philippe had spent the entire day, and now the remainder of the evening, trying to convince him not to go through with it.

"Petit frere," he protested, "From what I have heard, and what you have told me, of this Opera Ghost it is not wise. Do not take from him what he loves most. Brother only tragedy shall be the outcome of your plan."

But all of his efforts were futile for Raoul was young, determined and above all else he was in love. He watched anxiously as Christine sang, the corps de ballet did high kicks that would put any dancer to shame, and as the clock ticked Raoul become more and more nervous that perhaps Erik knew of their plan. Maybe he had a plan of his own, so many thoughts ran through his head and he feared the worst. Many times he found himself wringing his hands so tight that he cut off all circulation through them. 'There is nothing that he can do now' he kept trying to reassure himself but the entire idea was completely nerve-wracking. Finally Christine came on stage for her final aria and Raoul stood intending to go check that everything was in order. As soon as his hand touched the doorknob of box five every light in the opera house went out. He turned towards the stage and cried out in desperation,

"Christine!"

Mere seconds later the lights were back on and everything was as it had been, except for Christine. She was gone, vanished and the entire auditorium went into a frenzy.

"Le Fantome!"

Raoul heard Philippe's voice, and he cursed Erik under his breath. He swung open the door and ran only feet before someone grabbed his arm. He turned around to see someone he'd never met before pointing in the opposite direction.

"No monsieur, we must head this way for it is the only entrance to his lair."

Raoul, without question, knew of whom this stranger spoke and he followed him down the grand stairway in the main lobby, up into the ballet dormitory and then he brought Raoul into a dark closet. Within seconds the stranger began knocking all over the wall.

"Monsieur I must ask for your help, for without your cooperation we will never get to your betrothed in time."

Raoul was confused, "How do you…"

"Do not ask, for I know many things. I am the Persian and you may call me Daroga but please help me."

Instinctively Raoul began to mimic the Persian, knocking on the walls, and for what reason he did not know.

"Daroga, what am I looking for?"

"You are listening to hear the sound of hollow wood. Through one of these walls is a secret…"

"I found it!"

Raoul eagerly pushed on the wall and it slid away before his eyes. Wasting no time the Persian stepped in, pulling Raoul behind him. Though he could not see Raoul felt that they were walking ever downwards and he could feel water beneath his feet. Gradually the walls felt as if they were slanting inwards and the passage became small enough that both men, skinny as they were, had to turn sideways to fit. When finally the passage opened up again Daroga stopped, without warning, and pulled something off the wall. Before Raoul knew what was happening light flooded the tunnel and he could see all around him.

"Daroga, where are you taking me?"

"Hush, we must make as little noise as possible, for although he is detained otherwise Erik could be watching us this very moment."

He spoke in a hushed tone and his words were barely audible. Raoul had to strain his ears to hear anything.

"I have found an entrance into Erik's home, I think, and I believe we can get in undetected."

Raoul suddenly felt a wave of heat overtake him and he looked up to see furnaces all around.

"We are going to get into his house through the furnace room?"

The Persian turned around, a look of frustration pasted all across his face, and hissed at Raoul.

"Monsieur, if you wish for me to bring you any further you will be silent."

After that Raoul did not speak. From the furnace room Daroga brought him into what appeared to be some sort of storage room. The ceiling was very high, nearly eighty feet above their heads, and for good reason. There were old backdrops from Opera's past stored in the east side of this room. Between the backdrop from a performance of Hannibal and one from the early acts of Faust there was a door on the wall. Most people would have looked at it and seen nothing but The Persian had followed Erik in his paths many times and he knew that there was a trap door on the wall. Finding the latch he swung it open and climbed in, motioning for Raoul to follow.

They crawled down a long tunnel, only two feet wide and three high, for what seemed like ages. Abruptly Daroga stopped and Raoul's face slammed into the soles of his boots.

He cried out and Daroga turned, as best he could, to once more reprimand him.

"Monsieur le Vicomte, now it is of the utmost importance that you do not utter a sound. Beneath me is a drop off and I believe that when we jump down we will be in one of the back rooms of Erik's house. If he hears us now it will all be over for you and I along with your precious Christine. Monsieur I beg of you, if you wish to see the sun ever again do not make any more sounds!"

**A/N This was somewhat short and I think that I went a little bit fast with my descriptions but I'm being rushed and I can't write well when I'm rushed. Anyways I hope you enjoy. If you read my story, even just this once, please have the courtesy of reviewing, whether you liked it or not. Constructive criticism is always encouraged, however do NOT leave a review telling me all how much you hate my story and what an awful author I am. If you don't like it that's fine you are entitled to your opinion. Just tell me what I can to do make it better. Thanks for reading!**

**Caitlyn**


	4. Beneath the Opera House

**Megumisakura: Thanks for reading and for the compliment, I'm flattered that you enjoyed it. Obviously, here is an update and I know there are some people who aren't going to like it but hey, there are stories that I don't like so it all evens out. Thanks again for reading!**

**Oh and everyone, I'm sorry about the previous chapter. My computer wouldn't let me add in my replies to the reviews I received. If you reviewed Chapter one or two and would like to see your reply I have them posted in chapter two now so you can go and look at those. Enjoy!**

Chapter Four: (Raoul's point of view)

I watched, intrigued, as Daroga jumped down from the tunnel we'd been crawling through into some room in Erik's house. I myself was terrified and my legs nearly crumpled beneath me as they hit the solid floor. We'd been standing in the room mere seconds when out torch mysteriously blew out. With no light source of any kind it took a while before my eyes adjusted to the darkness. When they had I looked all around me to see that the walls were covered in mirrors.

The mirrors were divided into panels and each panel was from the floor the ceiling in height and about four feet wide. The room itself appeared to be only four feet wide, comfortable for two people to walk side by side. As we began to walk we saw that the passageway went on for several feet before splitting into two passageways. We took the left side but when we'd walked its length we discovered a dead end.

"The maze of mirrors,"

Were the only words that Daroga had whispered as we quietly turned back. We started down the right passageway and discovered the same result, a dead end, only this time right as we turned to go back we heard a loud creaking. Upon looking back we saw that the mirror at the end of the passage had opened up leading into dozens of passageways. Suddenly I feared for both Christine and us more than ever before.

"You can't do this!"

Christine shouted frantically at Erik. It was him who had cut out every light source in the auditorium and it was him who had snatched the diva offstage with no one the wiser, except for Daroga and the young Vicomte. Now he was trying, with everything he had, to convince her to stay with him.

"Christine, as long as you walk this earth no one will ever love you as I will. I beg of you do not break my heart again."

She looked into his eyes and for the first time since he'd shown himself to her she began to see him once more as her angel and not as a monster. However angry she was with him she couldn't help but feel compassion for this man who'd done nothing, until now, to harm her. She could feel his sincerity and she knew that if she agreed to stay with him, and to marry him, that he would love her forever. She tried to speak, but no words would come out of her.

He was torn apart by her silence and she simply sat there as the tears began to flow down his face. He reluctantly let go of his grasp on her hand and saw that his tight grip had left purple bruises around her delicate wrists. This only made him cry harder and he could see that she was uncomfortable. He couldn't take it any longer, he was sick of hurting people. He was sick of hurting Christine.

"Christine…you may,"

He was about to set her free but as he spoke they both heard a deafening crash come from the room behind them. He rushed to the door and upon opening it he saw that Daroga had broken through one of the mirrors in his maze. His anger overtook his confusion and he flew towards Daroga tightening his hands around the Persian's bony neck.

"What the hell is wrong with you Daroga? I've told you, more times than I care to remember, to stay away from here. You have no right to be here you arrogant Persian bastard."

Daroga tried to speak but he was doing well managing to breath. Erik was fuming and contemplated strangling the life out of him until he saw Raoul emerging from the maze. Christine saw him too and her heart jumped. Before Erik had a chance to get up Christine ran to Raoul, threw herself into his arms and began bawling. This only upset Erik further and he rose silently. Christine was almost assured that her beloved would save her. She knew that they could run away together when all this was over, but for now she was afraid of the present. She was terrified of what Erik could, and would do to Raoul.

"Ah young Vicomte, I wondered when you would come. However, Christine will not be leaving with you, she and I are now engaged."

Inside Christine cursed him with all of her being but she knew better than to vocally refuse him. Raoul, on the other hand, was an exception. He had not dealt with the Phantom before and he knew nothing of his powers. He gently kissed Christine on the forehead and then stepped in front of her.

"Leave us alone phantom. Christine would never agree to marry you."

At hearing Raoul's voice, Erik became more infuriated then ever before. Violent images of torturing this boy went flashing through his mind and he wanted nothing more than to go through with any one of them. He heard Christine whisper, "Raoul" and when the boy turned around to look at her Erik took the opportunity. He flung his pun-jab and it fell right around Raoul's neck. Ignoring all of Christine's desperate cries, and leaving behind any trace of empathy, he dragged the choking boy over to the edge of his black lake.

He lifted Raoul up by his neck and dangled his scrawny body over the water. Finally paying notice to Christine's screams he turned to face her. She'd imagined that his face would be twisted into unfathomable hate but when he looked at her she saw quite the opposite. He had tears streaming down his cheeks and he had not even the strength to look at her. Through choked sobs he finally spoke,

"Choose Christine,"

She was confused, "what Erik? What must I choose?"

He took in a deep breath and exhaled before finding the courage to look into her deep blue eyes. "Choose between your freedom…. and his life. If you do not wish to marry me then you may leave but if you do that you will leave me with no choice but to drown your young friend in this lake."

Christine gasped and all color drained from her frail face. Her arms felt numb and she thought she might fall over. She opened her mouth to speak, several times, but her confusion was such that her voice was a luxury she could not presently attain. Under no circumstances did she want Raoul to die but she didn't want to be forced into marriage. She did love Erik but he couldn't force her like this. She'd made no advances in her decision when she heard a raspy voice from behind her.

"Christine, either way that you choose you can not win. If you truly love the Vicomte you will spare his life. For believe me there are tortures you could never imagine in that lake."

Erik hissed at Daroga, "Shut up you fool," and then he turned to Christine, "Make your choice. My patience is wearing thin Christine, do not make me choose for you."

He had no intention of letting Raoul free, but he did not want him to die from asphyxiation before he could kill him himself. Besides that his arm grew tired from holding the boy up. Erik threw him to the ground and pulled the rope tight enough that the boy could not speak. After this he simply stared at Christine, the deadly silence between the two nearly killing them both.

Moments passed and both Erik and Raoul pleaded to Christine with their eyes. Daroga, lifeless behind her, could be of no help now. This was her decision and she knew what the right choice was…

**If you read my story, even just this once, please have the courtesy of reviewing, whether you liked it or not. Constructive criticism is always encouraged, however do NOT leave a review telling me how much you hate my story and what an awful author I am. If you don't like it that's fine. Tell me what I can do to make it more enjoyable for you. Thanks for reading! Caitlyn**


	5. ange dechu

**Wow, it has been a while hasn't it! By special request I am going to try my hardest to continue this fic. If anyone has any questions on what any French phrases that I use mean, don't hesitate to ask. I hope that you will enjoy! This is quite different from my other story on here, "Pure".**

Slowly, but with her usual air of confidence, Christine walked slowly to Erik's side. Looking deeply into his saddened, cold eyes Christine put her hands around the back of his neck and pressed her lips to his. For a moment it was as if the world stopped. For that one moment, Erik knew happiness and Christine felt relief. Pulling away she looked back into his eyes only to find them shining. A faint smile graced his lips and Christine knew that her sacrifice would be worth it. Seeing the longing in his eyes, Christine leaned in and kissed him again this time parting her lips slightly.

"Christine…why," Raoul whispered in agony. As much as he wanted to live, he would have given anything to see Christine set free. Now she'd be stuck with this monster, this phantom, for the rest of her life. What upset him most was the fact that there was nothing he could do about it.

Still clinging to Christine, Erik's eyes began to fill with tears at the sound of Raoul's voice. Raoul, the man he would always wish to be. From his muscular body to his handsome face Erik envied every fiber of him. All that he could ever be was a corpse, death's head. Christine would never love him, and Raoul could love her better than he could ever wish to.

"Go," he whispered, breaking the kiss. "Go now and never come back." He sobbed and trudged, defeated, back to his home. "Now I know what it is to be loved. Leave me Christine!"

She was shocked. She wondered, had he really just spoken those words. Her mouth hanging slightly open and her lips trembling Christine stepped toward him slowly.

"Erik?" she questioned.

He screamed at her, "Go!"

Turning away quickly, she ran to Raoul's side and pulled the rope from his neck. He threw his arms around her and she leaned into him only a moment before urging him up. Glancing back to Erik, Christine saw that he had disappeared but she could still hear his wailing.

A small gondola sat on the shore of Erik's lake and Raoul motioned for Christine to go to it but instead she went over to Nadir's side.

"Daroga," she whispered, "wake up, please." It was only a moment before his pale blue eyes fluttered open and he realized what had happened.

"Christine," he said, looking around, "where is he?" He feared for his tormented friend.

In her ignorance of Erik's whereabouts she simply sighed and whispered, "we must go." Helping the Persian to his feet she pointed towards Raoul and they began walking, with Nadir leaning on her for support.

They walked slowly and with each passing second it occurred to Christine that she might never see her beloved angel again. She tried to decide whether that delighted or depressed her and she came to no definite conclusion. He'd kidnapped her, threatened her fiancé, but above all he'd loved her unconditionally. How could she resent him for that?

When the two reached Raoul, the Vicomte extended his hand and helped Nadir into the gondola before Christine. When she grabbed his hand a sense of misery surged through her body as she realized his might be the last hand she'd ever hold. However she rested her head on his shoulder as he began to push the boat through the water. Silence overcame the underground labyrinth and no one but Christine could hear the faint sound of singing. On impulse she turned her head to look behind and saw Erik standing on the shore with his head buried in his hands.

"Raoul," she whispered, "Raoul go back."

"What," he said, confused.

"Raoul, look, he's there. I must say my good-bye to him, I simply must!" She pleaded with him and tugged on his arm.

The young Vicomte craned his neck towards the shore, and saw no one. "Christine, what are you saying? There is no one there."

"Raoul yes, yes there is. Erik is standing there he is calling to me. Can you not hear? Can you not see?"

He was now becoming slightly irritated. "Christine you know that my senses are in tact. Of whom do you refer? There is no one standing on the shore."

"Please Raoul, I can see him. Please do this for me. Take me back."

Looking into her deep, brown, longing eyes he couldn't deny any wish she could make. Shaking his head, he turned the vessel around and rowed steadily back to the shore.

When they were within feet, Christine raised her skirts and jumped into the murky water. Nadir held his breath as he watched the beautiful young woman splash through the lake. Silently he said a prayer for her.

"Erik?" Christine called out. She searched for Erik with her eyes and her ears but she could no longer hear his voice nor see his masked face. "_Mon ange_!" she cried

"Christine," Raoul called to her. "Forget this, let us go. We can finally escape him now." The ensuing silence was interrupted suddenly and violently by the most beautifully hateful organ music any of the three had ever heard.

She felt as if the tempo of his music was aligned with the beating of her struggling heart. She turned to face her lover and searched for the caring in his eyes that she was so used to finding in the eyes of her angel. Not seeing it, she slowly rose to her feet and turned to face Erik's reticent home.

Step-by-step she envisioned the face behind the mask; the hate behind the fingers playing the music that overpowered all other sounds in this world beneath the opera. She imagined what she could say to him as she approached the door that had been shut sometime during the preceding chaos. Her frail hand reached for the brass doorknob and at the same moment she grasped the handle the music stopped.

**If you read my story, even just this once, please have the courtesy of reviewing, whether you liked it or not. Constructive criticism is always encouraged, however do NOT leave a review telling me how much you hate my story and what an awful author I am. If you don't like it that's fine. Tell me what I can do to make it more enjoyable for you. Thanks for reading! Caitlyn**


End file.
